


A Blushing Bride and A Freckled Groom

by InfraVioletUltraRed



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, I love weddings so sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfraVioletUltraRed/pseuds/InfraVioletUltraRed
Summary: Prompto gets married. *shrug*





	1. First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the song for the first dance is "Binary Sea" by Death Cab For Cutie. Its about love and photography!  
> Enjoy!

Something amused you about the fact that you two were announced to make your entrance as “for the first time in public, Mr, and Mrs. Argentum.” Like, what did the “in public” mean? Was it to imply that you had been engaged in “the marriage act” and this was the first time you’d do it _while being married_? Or did they think that you had spent all your dress fittings twirling in front of the mirror and calling yourself Mrs. Argentum? Because that was silly.

It was also what you’d done. You had stood in front of the mirror, looking at the white dress you had on. You loved it, to be sure; it was the best of all of them (and you had tried nearly everything they had in white in your size), but it was still missing _something_.  So you looked it up and down, looked into your own eyes as you’d thought, and then it came to you. A sash. A big bow in the back, with tails that reached to where your (tastefully small) train started. But what color?

It was called gunmetal gray, and it was gray, but it had a blue-purple tint. There was nothing about the color that didn’t scream “Prompto” to you—gunmetal for obvious reasons, and the purple-blue like his eyes— so that was your pop of color against your stark, snowy-white wedding dress.

You’d considered having it also function as your “something blue,” but at the last moment while you were getting dressed, someone had slipped a small bit of blue fabric between your bridal lingerie and your dress.  So that had been covered.

The ceremony had passed uneventfully (thank the gods), even though you were scared there was going to be some horrible slip-up, lost rings or vows, a slip of the tongue like “awful wedded husband,” or something _worse_. But everything went fine! And now, you were being introduced as Prompto’s wife, because it was time for your first dance.

You came out onto the dance floor, holding hands and grinning. You guys knew that there were some couples that did big choreographed dances for their first dance, but that just didn’t feel… right for you two. So you didn’t do it. This was _your_ wedding, after all.

The two of you stood, looking onto each other’s eyes for a moment, just looking, just breathing, just… being. Your hands were still clasped. It was easy to forget that all your friends were there, watching you; it felt for a brief moment, before the music started, like maybe you two were the only ones in the world.

But the song—your wedding song—started, and Prompto offered his hand, which you gladly took, and he pulled you in close as you began to spin. It looked very formal at first, all angular elbows and sweeping of your skirt. You knew that if Prompto weren’t, you know, integral to this moment, he would have been snapping pictures of it left and right—the way your skirt flared out from your hips, the bow lifting off from it, suspended in air as you rotated, drenched in the spotlight that was on the pair of you. But he was, he had to be here (not that you would want him anywhere else, honestly), so instead of snapping it with his camera, he looked down at you as though he could capture the moment in his memory forever if only he stared at it, at you, long enough. You looked up at him with a tiny smile on your face, eyes glassy from unreleased tears of joy. You couldn’t cry, you’d ruin the makeup that had been put on you so expertly, you’d risk getting it on the dress. You couldn’t do that. And you didn’t want Prompto’s memory of this to be you crying anyway.

Instead, you leaned in while you were turning, to press a gentle kiss to his lips, one he eagerly returned. When you’d pulled back, you rested your head against his chest. As a result, you two were no longer making big circles around the dance floor, just rotating gently in the spot you were in. He’d also pulled your hands in towards yourselves until the tip of your thumb rested against his chest. Then he curled his hand around yours, shifting your hands so that your fingertips were against his chest, your hand was wrapped around his thumb, and his hand covered yours.

You spun like that, pressed against each other and hardly noticing anything outside the little circle of light you resided in, until the song ended. Then you buried your face against his chest, and you sobbed. This was incredible, your heart couldn’t hold all the joy you were experiencing, and it spilled out of your eyes and throat as you pressed against Prompto. Your husband.

Prompto’s arms surrounded you, then, one hand on your hair and one around your back to hold you close as you let out one last gentle sob. The you sniffled and looked up at him. He smiled down at you softly, wiping the tears away with his thumb and kissing you again.

When he pulled away, he reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, then lifted it, the front camera ready to take a selfie. You giggled and looked up into it as the shutter sounded.

It was…cute. He opened Instagram and began typing out a caption: “Just finished the first dance. So that makes it official, right? #justmarried #lovehonorandcherish #husbandandwife #unbreakablevow #alsodoesntmywifelookamazing #bejealous”. You giggled again, taking his free hand and getting ready to lead him off the dance floor.

“Come on, Prompto,” you said, “I think I’m supposed to dance with Cor now, since he’s the closest thing you have to a dad. Unless you’d rather I dance with Noctis?”


	2. Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight ribbon of nsfw in the middle.

You swept up your skirt to hold it in your hand as you entered the room. Noctis had really been serious when he said he’d made sure the suite would be over-the-top incredible. He was adamant that his best friend and the person who made said best friend so happy deserved opulence like that, so finally, you two let him take over that part of the planning.

And you were so glad he had.

As you gasped at the beauty of the place you would spend the night, you held extra tight to your skirt with one hand, and with the other, you grabbed ahold of Prompto’s hand, to pull him in with you.

You smiled as you watched him look around, and giggled when he commented how romantic it all felt.

“Of course,” you remarked, “tonight’s special. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

“I guess,” he replied, laughing a little, “but I really wouldn’t need atmosphere at this point.”

When you didn’t say anything, he looked up to see the confused look on your face.

“I don’t mean—! Oh, gods. I just meant that all day, I’ve been thinking about how much I love you, so it’s not like I would need to be convinced, or put into that kind of mindset or anything.”

You smiled again, then moved toward him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you leaned in to kiss him.

“Good. I would hope you wouldn’t need to be convinced to make love to your wife a mere few hours after the wedding.”

“My…wife.” He breathed.

“Yup. It’s official now, so you’re stuck with me.”

“I’ll never feel stuck. Having you around is… the best thing that ever happened to me.” You could tell he was going to cry if this went on much longer, so you moved one hand from his shoulder to his cheek. He leaned into your touch, the skin under your hand heating up in a flush. You smiled softly and pulled him in for another kiss, your other hand snaking from his shoulder to cling to his lapel.

Prompto’s hands found their way onto your hips, then around your back, until he had the web between his thumb and index finger on either side of the big grey bow tied behind you.

When you pulled away, you laid your hands on his as he began to work at the bow. But then, he stopped. He picked up his phone and gestured for you to turn your back to him.

“I’m sorry, babe, it’s just so pretty, and I want to get a picture of it before we take it off you.”

You sighed, but turned, fluffing the train of your dress and making sure the bow was seated properly.

A moment later, he made a noise in the back of his throat, and your turned around, hands reaching for the bow. When you got it untied, you pulled it around you until you had it in one hand. Then you took hold of the ends of the ribbon, one in each hand, and swung it so the slack of the ribbon was around the back of Prompto’s neck. You pulled him in again, until you could feel his breath across your face, and then you whispered, “I’m just going to keep kissing you until something happens.”

“Honestly? That’d be fine with me.” He closed the gap between you then with a gentle, close-mouthed kiss. You could feel him smiling against your mouth, and you were sure he could feel you doing the same.

Then, there was a knock at the door. The two of you sprang apart, and Prompto headed for the door. You followed him, hiking your skirt up and kicking off your heels to walk across the plush carpet.

But by the time you’d caught up to him, Prompto had already shut the door, and had turned back towards you.

“What was it?” you asked, and he gestured at the plate he was now carrying.   You two settled, seated, onto the bed to take the cover off the plate, and Prompto picked up the note that fluttered down while you looked at the plate of… oh! chocolate-covered strawberries.

The note read: _Look man, I’m sure she appreciates you going slow, but you won’t scare her off by going too quickly at this point. You’re married already. Okay, good luck and good night. -Noct_

You giggled. “How _charming._ It was nice of him to send us these, though.”

Prompto nodded, picking up one of the strawberries and holding it up to your mouth. You bit into it, only eating half. You gestured for him to finish it, which he did gladly.

The two of you settled back against the pillows, then, the plate of strawberries resting in both your laps as you held hands underneath it. With your free hands, you fed each other strawberries, or started taking off small articles of clothing, like your earrings and Prompto’s bow tie (you kind of wished he hadn’t taken it off. It was cute).

But eventually, you were ready to… move forward. So you said, not very subtly, “If I eat any more strawberries, I’m going to bust out of this dress. Care to help me get out of it?”

As you said this, you rucked your skirt up so that it was pooled around your waist. Prompto reached for his phone again, snapping a picture of you in a sea of fabric. While you had rolled your eyes as he grabbed his phone, you were grinning in the photo, your lips pink from the strawberries (thank the gods it hadn’t been cherries, or it would paint an entirely different picture) and your eyes alight.

It was _easily_ one of his new favorite pictures of you. But he did have a lot of favorites…

When he had put his phone down again, he made quick work of your dress’s closure, lifting the dress over your head, leaving you in your lingerie, and letting the patch of blue fabric flutter onto the sheets.

He picked it up and eyed it curiously as he draped your dress over a chair. You laughed at his expression and explained.

“it’s a wedding tradition—a bride is supposed to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue on her. That was the something blue. I think Iris was the one that put it between my dress and well,” you gestured at yourself, “these.”

He knelt on the bed next to you, running his fingers down the lacy fabric you wore. “What’s wrong with those?”

“Nothing!” You blushed as you met his gaze, soft but intense. Prompto looked hungry for you, and his fingers resting on your exposed flesh felt like they were burning. “The only thing really wrong with them is that they’re keeping us apart.”

“Well, we can fix that,” he said, bringing his hands back up to the clasp of your bra, hidden behind a tiny lavender satin rose against your breastbone.  He ran his thumb over the flower before focusing his attention on the fastener, fiddling with it until there was a quiet pop and your bra no longer clung to you so tightly. Your brought your hands up to hold the cups to you as he slid the straps down your arms.

When the straps hit your elbows, you took your hands down and kissed Prompto as he pulled the bra the rest of the way off you, one arm at a time. Your arms curled around his neck almost reflexively as he moved his body closer to you, and you pulled yourself closer by them, pressing your chest against his—he was still dressed. You pulled back as if struck.

“You’re wearing too much,” you gestured vaguely at him. He looked down at the tuxedo he was wearing, then let out a bark of laugh.

“You’re right.” As he started taking off the tuxedo, draping it over the same chair that your dress was on, you thought about how you kind of wished he’d put on more of a show while he stripped, but also that you wanted him pressed against you again, skin to skin this time.

You just wanted him. You weren’t sure why it was so sudden or strong—you’d had sex before. Maybe it was the novelty, the meaning of the night. The first time you two were husband and wife.

In any case, you watched as he revealed more and more of his creamy skin, mottled with freckles. Gods, you wanted to kiss every one of those freckles until they were so wet, they ran and spread over his body like undried ink.

He’d reached his underwear… boxers with a tuxedo printed on the front. You sighed and shook your head, but he just smiled.

“We both had special wedding underwear,” he said, suppressing a laugh.

You could only shrug and agree. He was snapping another picture, of his tuxedo draped over your dress.

“Prom, _please_ don’t show that one to anyone. The dress ones were pretty, but that’s just…”

“Y/n, do you think they’re not gonna know what we’re doing?” He sat down next to you on the bed again.

“No, I know. I just… think we could at least _try_ to be a little private about it. You know?”

He smiled. “I do.”

You giggled then, leaning in and rubbing your nose against his. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that today.”

“I could repeat some other things I said today,” he said, kissing your cheek, “like ‘Noct, don’t tell that story again; what kind of best man does that?’ or ‘Iggy, this was an excellent wine choice,’ or…” He pretended to think, “how about ‘I love you, y/n.’?”

You smiled. “I love you too, Prompto.”

He flopped down onto his back then, patting his thighs with one hand, to gesture for you to sit on him.  As you settled yourself onto his thighs, he sighed and began a sentence, a proposition.

“So, Mrs. Argentum.”

“Ooh,” you said, faking a shiver, “I could get used to that.”

He nodded and grinned. “You’d better. Now, as I was saying—to you, my lovely wife—shall we actually get the festivities going?”

You grinned, like a cat who was _just about_ to get the canary, and you grabbed his hands to pull yourself forwards, to settle over his hips. As you settled, you felt yourself brush against his burgeoningly apparent arousal, and you let out a low, “I think we shall.”

You lifted yourself off him momentarily to peel off the last little bit of lace on you, and you stayed like that to hook you fingers under the waistband of his _festive_ underwear as well.

When they were off, you sat up again.  He beckoned you down, so you leaned down, curious what he had planned. His hand slid into your hair to pull you even closer for another heated kiss. He gripped at your hair as he nibbled your lip, but when you pulled back for air, he didn’t let go, instead fishing for the way to take your hair out of the style it was in.

“As lovely as it looked,” his voice was husky, and you loved it, “I wouldn’t want to pull it too hard while it’s like this.”

You smiled and leaned up again, hands rising to the back of your head to fiddle with clips and pins, until your hair flopped out of the style. You ran your fingers through it, trying to get rid of some of the crunch of hairspray, and get it to fall more naturally.

Well. Good enough. You gave it a little flip and went back to kissing Prompto. _Your husband_ , you reminded yourself with a grin.

This time was different from other times. It wasn’t that you were more gentle than normal (or rougher, either), or really that anything was very different. But it was all about sensation this time, the wet feel of each other’s mouths, light touches on each other’s faces to brush back strands of hair, the warmth and pressure at each point of contact.

It wasn’t more pleasurable than normal. But that pleasure was more intense, somehow.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up a little after sunrise because as the light streamed through the gauze-y curtains, it illuminated the fabric of your discarded dress, and it shone right in your eyes.

You cracked your eyes at first, then as you remembered where you were and why, opened them all the way to take in the scene fully. Everything in the room was drenched in gold light, including you two still in bed.

Prompto was still asleep, or at least it seemed so, but he was rubbing an elongated circle on your back very slowly. Maybe he was half-asleep, enough to move but not to know what movements he was making. Well, you could stay like that a little longer. You rested your head against his chest again, throwing your arm over him and shutting your eyes.

You were woken up maybe an hour and a half later by Prompto kissing your temple.

“Hey, y/n, wake up. Ignis brought us breakfast.”

As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you felt Prompto’s hand slide from your upper arm to your waist. You stretched, then kissed the tip of his nose, then smiled brightly with a, “good morning.”

He handed you a robe then, telling you to put it on. You did, confused, until you saw him pick up his phone again. (you also thought to yourself that his phone’s battery life was impressively long, since you couldn’t remember him charging his phone last night).

“Prompto, do you have to—” He cut you off with a gentle “shh.”

“I guess I don’t _have to_ , but I wanted to document everything about the wedding.”

“But the wedding was _yesterday_.”

“And this is the morning after! Look, if nothing else, the lighting’s incredible. And you look so good right now, Y/n. You’re practically glowing.”

You blushed, and he snapped a picture. You let out a sigh, a smile breaking over your face as you heard another shutter. “Fine. But not for too long. I don’t want breakfast to get cold.”

He nodded from behind his phone. “That’s fair.”

As you two settled back into bed to eat, you asked, “So, Ignis brought us this?”

“Yeah. He said he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“Well, that was nice.”

Prompto nodded, taking another bite of toast. You sipped at your ebony contentedly, looking around. The gold light had gone out of the room as the sun had continued to rise, but you were sure that you were still glowing regardless.


End file.
